Adventure with an American Ghost
by Lunar Disguise
Summary: Au. Arthur is an author with an ordinary life. Constantly battling deadlines and writers block. Never did he imagine that adventure would find him outside his stories. That is until he meets Alfred. A ghost, who's death might not have been a coincidence
1. Saving

A young man stood on a cliff overlooking the ocean. A gentle sea breeze caressed his skin, bringing the salty scent of the ocean, filling his lungs with it. The deep blue of the large body of water before him was only rivaled by the blue of his eyes. He stood there taking in the view, clutching the object he had worked so hard to obtain. He let himself take in a moment of peace.

"There he is!"

"Get him!"

"Come back here Parker!"

The bellows of out of breath rage shattered that peace.

"Looks like time's up," He said cheerfully, arms at his sides, eyes dancing with amusement at the men that surround him, blocking his exit.

"What are you going to do now Parker?" One of the soldiers laughed triumphantly, "There's no way out, you might as well give up!"

He just smiled, "Ah, you would think so! But I've never been one to give up." He took a step back, then another. The soldiers matching him step for step. They glanced at each other, looking like predators going in for the kill. He was losing land; it seemed to be the end for him. They would catch him, take away his prize, and most likely it would be the gallows for him.

With one more step, he stopped, and took a bow, "Sorry boys, as much as I would love to play I really must be going."

"What are you on about Parker? There's no escape!"

"That's where you're wrong, there's always a way out for Jared Parker!" And with that he crossed his arms and fell backwards hurtling into the churning waters below. He would have laughed at their faces if he wasn't busy with falling and all.

The water was ice cold, it mercilessly stole his breath and threatened to still his body, but his mind was racing. He needed to move, the water was dragging him down into its murky depths. Each stroke took an eternity, his lungs were burning, and his clothes felt like lead weights. He needed to….he needed to… "Perhaps he should take off his clothes I know someone I would like see do that."

Arthur Kirkland jumped nearly a foot in the air hearing the heavily accented voice of a Frenchman behind him. "Bloody hell! Francis! How many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me when I'm writing?"

"But sourcils, that far off look when you write is so tempting. I just couldn't resist!" Said Frenchman was nuzzling his head, hands creepy a little too close to his lower regions.

"Don't call me that," Arthur replied crankily, upset at how familiar this ritual seemed, swatting away the hands, "Don't you have somewhere to be?" He turned back to his writings, trying to block out the existence of the blonde nuisance behind him.

"Oui, I do, but I'm here to remind you of something. What was it again?" He drawled on, tapping his bearded chin as if he really had to think about it.

"Get on with it, git," Arthur rubbed his eyes not wishing to deal with the French so close to his deadline.

"You wound me mon petite lapin, I am hurt! And here I was just trying to tell you that Kiku is coming to inspect your work earlier than planned," He didn't notice the Englishman stiffen, and then turn slowly around, a look of sheer horror on his face.

"When?" He asked rather shakily.

"Hmmm if I recall today in about….hmm five minutes, non?" Francis smiled brightly, that is until two small yet frightfully strong hands grabbed the front of his shirt dragging him down to eye level with the furious shorter blond.

"Bloody frog! Why didn't you tell me this right away?" Arthur shook Francis violently before pushing him away frantically trying to organize scattered pages, cursing his forgetfulness, and his unfortunate ability to lose things.

Kiku Honda was his editor; the Japanese man was calm and quiet, rarely getting angry. So rare, in fact, that he could count on one hand how many times since he started working with him how many times he seen Kiku angry. Arthur knew most likely he wouldn't be outraged, but still Arthur had a reputation to uphold and he hated disappointing Kiku, which he would be sure to do if he was late yet again.

Truth be told, the latest novel was giving him a bit of trouble. If you consider that the novel was supposed to be a heart pounding adventure, and Arthur Kirkland lived a…well not so heart pounding ordinary life, things weren't going smoothly. Sure at one point in time he dreamed of a life of adventure, believing one day of becoming a pirate. As evident by the way he used to dress up as one and start beating on the kid next door that once mentioned he was from Spain. He grew out of that phase, moving from beautiful England to bustling America taking to writing adventures. He was content, if not happy with being normal, but he felt that his writing was suffering because of it.

He broke out of his musings to notice that the frog was going on about something, which no doubt involved a lot of innuendos and smooth gestures. Somehow said frog was nuzzling him again. "Francis if you have nothing else would you kindly leave, preferably to go and die," Arthur took a swing at him, which Francis naturally dodged.

"Don't be so cranky, sourcils, or you'll never get a laid," He winked, and dodged another punch, laughing as he ran off.

"Stupid bloody frog, with his idiotic perverseness! One of these days I'm going to give him a beating. See if he can still smile if he has no bloody teeth." Arthur went back to organizing his papers, ranting on about how he was going to kill Francis.

His very detailed rant was interrupted however by a soft polite cough behind him. He dropped his papers in surprise, the pages scattering everywhere once more and turned to see Kiku bowing politely.

"Forgive me Kirkland-san, but your…uh 'friend' let me in." Kiku bent down and helped him pick up the pages.

"No, no, it's quite fine. And Kiku, do please call me Arthur," with their combined efforts the pages were gathered once more, "I'm sorry it's not quite done yet."

Kiku nodded looking over what was written so far, "It's as good as ever Arthur-san, but you do know the deadline is coming soon right? I'm not sure how much longer I can get the publishers to delay it once more."

Arthur bowed his head in shame, "Y-yes. I know. Don't worry, it's just a rough patch, a bit of writers block, but I'm sure I'll have it done by the deadline. I promise, on my word as an English gentleman."

Kiku nodded understandingly, "Very well Arthur-san. If you will allow me to make a suggestion?"

Arthur nodded, happy to get advice.

"Maybe you should go out and try something new, have an adventure of your own. That might help influence your writing."

Arthur sighed, it was sound advice, but he wasn't the type to go out looking for adventure. Besides what adventure could he possibly have? The world isn't like his stories. Nevertheless, he nodded if only to appease Kiku. The Japanese man in turn bowed politely and excused himself.

"An adventure?" Arthur mumbled after he was sure the other man was gone, "Where am I going to bloody find that? My life is ordinary, and that's the way it shall stay."

If he only knew…

* * *

Adventure or not what he really needed right now was tea. As a gesture of his recent streak of rotten luck he was having there was no a single tea bag in his house.

This meant if he wanted anything decent to drink he'd have to walk to a nearby tea house. With a sigh he gathered up his papers, thinking of which tea he wanted and what direction he was going to go with his novel.

He was so caught up in his thoughts about tea and how to make the story more convincing when crossing the street that he didn't see the light change midway through his journey across the road. He also was too busy picking his paper copy he had dropped yet again that he didn't notice the driver who was too busy searching for her phone in an overly large hand bag to notice the young man she was about to hit.

However, no one seemed to notice another young male with bright blue eyes run forward past the crowd gathered on the sidewalk, to push Arthur so hard he rolled forward at the feet of the spectators.

Arthur barely grasping what had just happened had only seconds to memorize the appearance of his savior.

It was a man who was likely no older than twenty, wearing faded jeans and a worn brown bomber jacket with a fuzzy black collar and 50 on its back in large white numbers. He had golden wheat blonde hair, glasses perched precariously on the edge of his nose, and his eyes… A bright blue, deep and determined. There was no fear in his eyes, only utmost certainty in what he was doing.

Arthur had less than a second to wonder at this man before the car flew by. His eyes widened like saucers then closed waiting for the sickening thump of a broken body and screams as people realized what just transpired. It never came.

He hesitantly opened his eyes, expecting something. Anything really, but much to his shock there was nothing. No blood, no body, no trace of the blue eyed man anywhere. Had he imagined it? No one else seemed to be looking for the man. In fact, some seemed to be staring at him in awe as if rolling away was a reflex.

Thoroughly spooked he quickly snatched his papers and stalked away deep in thought once more.

If he had looked back he might just have seen a pair of bright blue eyes watching him curiously with a smile on his face.

* * *

Now because it seems required of me I'm going to put the authors note at the end.

So, hi! New story, this time multi-chaptered. Please forgive me if updating is slow, as I am useless and tend to get distracted by different plot bunnies.

The main characters are England and America, but lot's of other characters will make their appearence so look forward to that. Also if you have any suggestions or want to see a specific character go right ahead and tell me in a review! I'm open to suggestion and not everything I have planned is written in stone. That being said, please review! I don't want to beg for them, but it would be nice to see them and they usually get me inspired to write more.

Another thing, big thanks to SuperKawaiiOtaku because she is awesome and was kind enough to point out my mistakes. Go check her out, she has a really cool Texas fic.

Alright last thing, I don't own Hetalia. Sigh, that was good to get off my chest. I'm feeling much better now.

Thank you for reading!


	2. Discovery

Arthur was in the teahouse with all his writings for the second week in a row. He told himself it was just because this teahouse had his favorite type on sale, that he just was familiar with this particular place, that he needed some fresh air to help with his writing, that he wasn't here because he had the incredible desire to see if he could spot that bloody disappearing American again. Alas he couldn't deny it, each time a splotch of wheat yellow or snippet of brown crossed his vision, his heart would skip a beat only to drop with disappointment. So each time he would end up in the same booth, in the same teahouse, with a rapidly cooling cup of earl grey, gazing out the window chewing on the end of his pen absently. Looking at the people passing by with uninterested eyes, all the while his mind trying to figure out how a man could push him out of the way of a speeding car and still manage to vanish in thin air.

He felt the eyes on him before he saw them. Across the street from the window where he sat, throngs of people were going about their monotonous lives. All except one, standing there as people passed without a second glance, blue eyes studying him, hands stuck into the pockets of his jacket, a faint trace of a smirk on his features. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments, then the American turned and walked away. In a flash Arthur gathered up his stuff, hastily stuffing papers in his briefcase, before running out the door.

By the time he caught up to the mystery man he was out of breath, panting heavily, and silently cursing that he wasn't more athletic, "O-Oi! You!" He called out when he deemed himself close enough to be heard easily, a bit miffed that he didn't even know his savior's name.

Thankfully the boy heard him and turned around, "Oh, you mean me? Hi! What can I do for you?" He was grinning, hands still stuffed in his pockets, looking like Arthur had just randomly stopped him by mere chance. Arthur felt his anger flare at the casualness and that anger got the best of him. He went to punch the git, but unfortunately said git dodged throwing up his hands as if to surrender. "Hey! Easy there mister eyebrows, do you randomly hit everyone you stop or am I on some reality TV show? Where are the cameras?" The boy looked back and forth as if searching for invisible cameras.

"No to both! Don't you remember me from the other day? You know the one you saved before vanishing! Ringing any bells?" Arthur flushed a bit sensitive about his big eyebrows.

Something indistinguishable flashed in the American's eyes so fast that Arthur wondered if he actually saw it, "Oh, yeah! I remember! You're the guy I pushed out of the way of that car. Close one wasn't it? You'd been as flat as a pancake if I didn't. Lucky the hero was there!" He laughed, and Arthur felt a headache rapidly approaching.

"Yes, yes, I'm that guy, more specifically Arthur Kirkland," Arthur ventured, sticking out his hand trying to try a different tactic.

"Alfred, Alfred F. Jones," Alfred replied distractedly, looking anywhere but the outstretched hand, his own placed inside the confines of his jacket pockets, "Soooo… Arthur, is there anything I can help you with? I know you want to shower me with you admiration, but I'm not sure if it would be too heroic of me to let you spend too much time focusing your attention on me. Heroes are always humble, you know. Save the day, then disappear into the shadows. So no need to fawn over me, your beloved awesome hero, after all it was nothing really! Hahahaha!"

Arthur held his hand in the air a moment longer, more out of shock than anything. Was this guy bloody mental? He questioned Alfred's sanity, but quickly shook it off letting his hand fall to his side once more, "Yes, well that's all well and good, but not what I followed you for," Was he imagining it or did Alfred look disappointed? "I just want to know how you did it."

"Did what? By the way you talk pretty funny. You British? Oh, are you a spy and you can't tell me? I bet you are! Dude, I just saved a spy, how awesome is that! I totally deserve a reward for that! I bet even the queen will be impressed by me totally saving one of her spies!" Alfred was babbling nonsensically again. His smile was blinding as he ranted on about spies using a variety of cheesy movie lines. Arthur definitely had a headache.

"No! You bloody American wanker! First, I am not a spy. Second, yes, I am British. And finally, I wanted to know how you swoop in out of nowhere, push me to safety, and somehow manage to not be flattened into a bloody pulp as well as disappearing into thin air!" By the time he finished his voice had raised considerably and a deep scowl on his face.

Alfred paused, a thoughtful expression on his face, "Well," Arthur listened carefully, "I can't," and hung his head depressed that he was there wasting his life on this stupid riddle for nothing more than the satisfaction of having something make sense, "But…" He raised his head hopefully at the look of deep consideration almost like in internal debate was waging within Alfred, "Hey you got some paper and a pen?" Now Arthur was just confused, but he still fished through his briefcase, pulling out a notepad and a pen. Alfred flashed a grin and grabbed the pen scrawling something quickly before tossing the pen back at Arthur who fumbled almost dropping everything in the process of catching it. "I can't tell you all the details right now, but you go here and everything will become clear. Deep right? I'm almost amazed at myself."

Arthur looked down at the barely distinguishable chicken scratch, but as far as he could tell it was an address of some sort. When he looked up again, the American was gone.

* * *

The address turned out to be a cemetery.

He must have checked the address a dozen times. He squinted at the writing convinced that he got it wrong, deeply hoping this was just some sick joke. But it wasn't, the address matched up. Brilliant.

So now that he was here, he wondered where Alfred was. After ten minutes he was about to give up when, there! He spotted a blond head working on the fence near the entrance. Arthur stomped right over, fed up with this whole mystery act. "You!" He shouted and the blond nearly jumped a foot in the air.

"Y-yes? How can I help you?" Why was Alfred acting so confused? Arthur was taken aback for a moment before pressing on.

"Alright you bloody git, what was so secretive you made me come all the way here?" Arthur wanted answers.

Alfred looked even more confused, "I'm not sure what you mean. Why would I tell you to come here?" The rest was so mumbled Arthur didn't catch it.

"Why don't you tell me? First you disappear, then finally when I find you again you send me to a bloody cemetery! Seriously Alfred, just tell me what I want to know so I can just get on with my life!" Arthur was so busy ranting that he didn't notice how Alfred was looking at him like Arthur was a madman, he did that as he continued Alfred went deathly pale at the mention of his name.

"Alfred? D-Do you mean Alfred J-Jones?" Alfred squeaked out.

"Yeah…" Arthur replied hesitantly, "Aren't you Alfred?"

Alfred, or rather not Alfred shook his head, "N-no. I'm not. My name is Matthew Williams."

"Oh…" Arthur felt incredibly awkward now, especially seeing as when he looked closely he could see the differences. Violet eyes, different personality apparently, not Alfred's hair was slightly longer and the piece sticking out was long with a curl. "Well…um…you see…" Arthur was wishing the sidewalk would swallow him up right now. The boy nervously fiddled with the fence again not looking at Arthur.

"I can show you where he is, if you want," the boy said quietly not looking up from his work.

"I'd appreciate that very much, if you would," Arthur replied politely. He wanted to get this over with and meet the idiot, preferably to punch and give a stern lecture to, so he could get on with his life.

The boy nodded, and lifted a hand, pointing to the cemetery. "There."

"Where?" Arthur squinted into the distance trying to see a blond head anywhere, "I don't see him, only headsto- oh… I see," Arthur felt his heart drop, "I'm sorry, I-," The boy cut him off with a shake of his head, he stood and starting walking among the headstones, motioning for Arthur to follow.

It took a moment for him to find his legs, he stumble to catch up with the other. "So…" He started awkwardly trying to break the silence besides the ominous crunching of their feet on dry dead leaves, "You're his relative I assume?"

Crunch, crunch, crunch. Leaves crumbling to dust under their feet. Matthew, if he recalled correctly, replied after a long pause, "His twin…"

"But-?"

"Parents were separated."

"Ah…" He didn't know how to reply. It made a lot of sense, they did indeed look a lot alike. It was no wonder he mistook Matthew for his brother when he arrived. He wondered if he should offer some sort of condolence, but he knew words and cliché phrases would seem shallow and were not what Matthew needed.

They fell into silence once more until they reached the grave. It was simple, which was surprising, but in an odd sort of way it suited the person it was for. A lone small American flag limp with the lack of wind was stuck in the ground next to the stone and couple of flowers, which looked like they were reaching their prime, laid in front. In plain lettering was his name, "Alfred F. Jones" the date was underneath. Alfred figured he would be about twenty when he died. That was a couple years ago.

The bloody git could have mentioned that, Arthur thought heatedly for a moment before letting it go. He shouldn't be angry at the idiot for being dead, and said idiot did save his life after all. How, well that was even more of a mystery now that he was here.

Arthur felt his mouth go dry, he swallowed thickly and turned to Matthew, "If…If you don't mind. How-"

Again Matthew as if sensing what he was going to say finished the question for him, "How did he die?" He paused, then sighed, "I wish I knew…"

* * *

"_HeyMattieguesswhatyou'llneverbelievewhathappenedit'sgoingtosolveeverythingandwe'llneverhavetoworryagain!" A ball of energy that was known as Alfred bounded in, coming up from behind, gripping his twin around the waist in a bone crushing surprise hug._

"_Alfred! We've been over this before. I can't understand what you're saying if you talk too fast," Matthew sighed used to his brother's antics by now, "plus I need to breath."_

_Alfred let go, bouncing in front of his twin, eyes shining with eagerness looking a lot like a puppy looking for praise, "I got a new job!"_

_Matthew frowned, clearly not sharing the same enthusiasm, "Another one? But what about school, and all your other jobs?"_

"_You don't understand, this is the one job that could solve everything. Once I take this you don't have to worry about where to get money for your tuition anymore!" He grinned clearly proud of himself for finding this fantastic job offer, whatever it was._

"_So what is this job? Are you sure it's not a scam, it seems too good to be true." Matthew asked knowing his brother wouldn't settle until he acknowledged this mysterious job offer. _

"_Nope, or at least I don't think so. If it is then I'm not complaining. They paid me in advance!" Alfred was practically glowing with excitement, but Matthew was skeptical. _

"_In advance? Just how much? What will you even be doing?" He ventured trying not to rain of Alfred's parade, but sometimes Alfred need a good soggy practical parade._

_Alfred's sunshine continued however, "That's the best part, it's enough to be able to pay for your tuition till you graduate, maybe even enough for me to quit a job and take more classes. That would be great. All I have to do is guard this thingy for one night and I'm done!" _

"_A thingy?" Matthew questioned, trying to get him to elaborate._

"_A thingy," Alfred nodded not getting it. _

_Matthew chose to let it go. "Alfred, are you sure about this?"_

"_Mattie, once I do this then there will be no more worrying." Alfred looked more serious then Matthew ever seen him, "Besides," He broke into his familiar grin, ruffling Matthews hair, "I'm the hero. I promise I'll be back before you know it and then everything will be ok. What's the worst that could happen?"_

_He grinned, so sure of himself, so sure that he would keep his promise and return like it was nothing. That this would be like happily ever after that existed like the heroes in fairytales. He left with his ever present grin, promising he'll be home soon. He left and never came back…_

* * *

I wonder if it's just me, but fanfiction wasn't letting me update this story, so they have partial blame for the delay. Only partial though. Sorry guys, I love all of you that took interest in my story hopefully I can update faster.

Anyways~

Yes this is going to be continued! Yes I'm a lazy person who should've have updated this much sooner! No I have no idea how long until the next one. Most of it is done, that is, was done until my computer commited suicide and I have to see if I can get my data back, but I promise I'll do my best to either re-do it or get it back and put it up soon.

Alright, first things first. Aileen Allison DeCuir is my awesome editor. So if there are any mistakes it's her fault. Just kidding, but seriously she's great go check her out.

Second: Don't own Hetalia

Third: thanks to MelodyOfStarshine for being my first reviewer. Yay, you're great!

So please do take the time to review, I'd love to see your opinions and if there are any characters or pairings I'll gladly take suggestions.

Until next time!


	3. Questions

Arthur sighed for what seemed the hundredth time within the hour as he stared at the torrential downpour pelting at the window of his favorite teahouse. The stormy skies reflected his mood like a mirror. The first drops began to fall while he was with Matthew at Alfred's grave. When the boy had asked why he was so interested in his deceased brother, Arthur barely managed to stammer out an excuse of knowing Alfred briefly and was trying to reconnect. It wasn't a lie, not really, and Matthew seemed to believe him. In fact they exchanged numbers, the young Canadian asking if he would like to talk later when he had more time. Arthur agreed, and used the rain as an excuse to leave swiftly. By the time he made it back to the teahouse he had forgotten all about the number in his pocket, was quite damp, and the rain showed no sign of letting up anytime soon. Not even the steaming cup of chamomile tea clutched in his chilled fingers could cheer him up right now.

Thoughts bounced back and forth in his mind. Puzzle pieces that refused to fit together. Alfred F. Jones was dead and has been dead for at least a couple of years. Yet he was saved by Alfred F. Jones. He couldn't have made it up, because he never heard the name or saw the boy until after he was saved. Arthur could've blamed on a twin or a look alike, though he met the twin and it wasn't him. Was it possible there triplets? No, now he was being ridiculous. How else to explain it then?

A thought crept into Arthur's mind, latching on with a tight grip before he shook it off.

"No, it can't be that. You're going mad Kirkland, delusional. Pretty soon it'll be off to the loony bin," Arthur muttered to himself, "Really, such an idea! How could he possibly be…."

A ghost…

Arthur was an avid fan of the occult, and believed in what people would consider nothing more than fairy tales. Though his obsession with it has diminished to just a lingering thought every now and then since he's came to the states. In fact that was one of the reasons he moved to the bloody country. Fae were much stronger back home where the presence of humans was less in the older towns than these choking cities. He used to make friends with unicorns, faeries, and all sorts of creatures. Their presence was ever present in his hometown. However, with that friendship came whispers and jeers. Odd one out, he was the weird kid, talking to something no one else could see. America was a chance to start over, easier to ignore the creatures, a chance to be more normal. So far he's been able to avoid what little magic there was, but now… now he was seeing ghosts.

Arthur ran his hands through his choppy blond locks frustrated. He didn't want to believe Alfred was a ghost, but that's the only way this whole incident would make sense. If he did just label Alfred as a ghost would that be mystery solved? Could he get on with his life?

The answer was no. It only brought up more questions without answers and locked his interest in Alfred. Arthur Kirkland wasn't satisfied without knowing all the facts involved. Perhaps it was the writer in him, because who knows, he might even be able to draft a great book out of this.

"-And so I told Mattie he was overreacting. Being five hours late wasn't all that bad and at least he was making friends with the homeless people. You should've seen his face! It was so red, I didn't think he'd ever talk to me again after that one. It's always fun to watch him yell, better than cable. Maybe even better than hamburgers. Nah that'd be crazy, nothing is better than a good burger." Arthur nearly dropped his tea at the sudden appearance of the very person he was thinking about, right there sitting casually in front of him, apparently in the middle of telling a story.

"What the – ? When the bloody hell did you appear?" Arthur stammered out after uttering a few choice curses.

"Not too long ago." Alfred grinned, "You were zoned out man. Welcome back to earth space cadet!" He had an amused smile plastered on his face.

Arthur took a calming breath, it would do no good to get mad at the git right now, even if he did deserve it. No, he needed to be calm a serious.

"So," Arthur started, Alfred leaned forward looking a bit nervous, but still smiling like nothing was wrong, "You're dead." Blunt, simple, a good start. Arthur was quite proud.

Alfred nodded relaxing a bit, but still edgy, "So you saw the grave? I was worried you wouldn't get it, but if I told you outright you wouldn't have believed me."

As much as Arthur hated it, he had to agree. It would have been easier, but seeing the grave made it more real, "Well I didn't at first, but then Matthew showed me the headstone…" He trailed off seeing Alfred's expression.

"YousawMattie!Howishe?Ishedoingokay?Didhelooktooskinny?Arehisclothesingoodcondition?Didhelookpale?Ishehealthy?" The smile was gone, instead there was conflicting emotions traveling across his features. A bit of hope, but it was reserved as if he long ago gave up such a thing, unguarded interest as well, guilt, longing, sadness, each appeared while he mouth rapidly fired question after question before he seemingly caught himself. "Knowing him, he's probably a mess," Alfred laughed, the smile came up again, but it was tense, like it took all his will to put it up and not continue with his questions.

"He looks fine, not sure I guess, not too skinny, don't know about that, and…Wait I'm the one who is supposed to be asking questions!" Arthur sputtered, then he caught himself as well and leaned back attempting indifference, "Besides if you're really that worried why don't you just go bother him?"

"Nah. Mattie can take care of himself without me watching him, plus you know the whole trying to move on and all," Alfred replied smoothly, leaning back as well, but it was obvious he was desperate to know more about his brother, "You have questions?"

Arthur fell for the distraction. Sighing, he wrapped his fingers around his rapidly cooling tea cup, staring into his tea, and tying to think of what to ask first. Really there was one thing he was most interested in, "Why?"

"Hmm? Why what? You gonna hafta be a little more specific than that dude," Alfred laughed.

"It's going to and have to, stop butchering the language." He had little doubt the longer he spent with the bloody American the more brain cells he was likely to lose, as interesting as the git was, "Anyways, what I mean is why did you save me? Not that I'm not grateful, but really I don't understand why you pushed me out of the way."

Alfred was quiet for a moment and Arthur didn't dare look up from the murky depths of chamomile. He was worried he had somehow offended the ghost. All of a sudden Alfred started laughing, Arthur snapped his head up to see Alfred with a huge genuine grin on his face, "That's because I'm a hero!"

"Eh?"

"Well I see a damsel in distress and –"

"Damsel?"

"I just have to save that helpless –"

"Helpless?"

"Person from becoming road kill. That's what heroes do! It was pure luck that I saw you and was able to save you in time. I couldn't let you die, I _had_ to save you." There was something odd about that last part, but Arthur was busy resisting the increasing urge to introduce his fist to the git's face to notice. Not that it would have done much good, or would it?

"So how is it you can move things, I didn't think ghosts could, well I've never seen a ghost that could interact that much with the normal world." Arthur hid behind a tone of indifference, but inside he was ablaze with interest. Already he was making mental notes in case he wanted to use this incident in a future novel. After all they say the greatest writers write from experience.

"Don't ask me dude, I've been a ghost for what, a couple of months-"

"Years." Arthur corrected.

"Seriously?" Alfred gave a low whistle looking almost nostalgic, "Wow time flies." He paused again frowning for a moment before shaking his head, continuing again, "Anyways, I don't really understand it, but if I concentrate really hard I can actually touch things. So far I can only do it once a day. It can get pretty frustrating, but I guess it's better than nothing. Again how lucky are you?" He laughed. How could the git stay so dam cheerful? It astounded Arthur.

Arthur thought about it, perhaps it was just luck that Alfred was there, in which case it would make an incredibly dull story. If he were writing it, he'd add a little more intrigue, a hidden agenda, a quest, something to thicken the plot. He sighed and took another sip of his tea.

"So-" Arthur began ready to move on with another question, but Alfred made a buzzer like noise cutting him off.

"Sorry, question time is over." He held a finger up pointedly, and winked.

"What? I barely scratched the surface and you're just cutting me off?" Arthur sputtered, "It's not fair!"

"I never said I would play twenty questions dude," Alfred laughed, "Besides it's getting late, and you look like the type that goes to sleep at eight o'clock max."

"What? How would you know? Ten, at least, and it's only…" Arthur looked at his watch and realized it was much later in the day then he thought. He'd be so in thought and running to the cemetery and back, he didn't realize how late it was, "Doesn't matter, the point is I'm not letting you disappear without knowing the full truth. If I don't ask now, you might move on and I'll never know."

"I can't…"

"Hmm?" Arthur realized Alfred was no longer smiling. His eyes were hidden behind his glasses.

"I can't move on…I've tried, but I can't. I don't have unfinished business, I've let go of everything, and yet….For the past months- no years, I've been stuck."

Arthur didn't know what to say, like before with Matthew, he wanted to say _something_, but he couldn't. The words just didn't sound right. "Alfred…" He began trying to come up with something.

Alfred burst out laughing, the smile back up, "Jeez Artie you're not supposed to get all sad. Besides being a ghost ain't all that bad."

"It's Arthur, git! And who said anything about being sad?" He went back to attempting indifference, "But that is indeed interesting…" The gears in Arthur head were turning, he had just thought that if there was a quest involved it would make the story more interesting.

Alfred stared at him, blue eyes confused, and Arthur decided that he wasn't just going an opportunity like this slip away. "I'm going to help you find a way to move on."

Alfred looked shocked to say the least, "What? Why? I never said I needed help, plus I doubt an old man like you could figure it out."

Arthur blushed embarrassed, "I'm only twenty-three git! Besides it's not like I care or anything. You could be a ghost forever as far as I'm concerned. Think of it as….well, paying you back for helping me the other day. I don't like owing people. Plus I think the world will be much better off without a git like you running around."

A blinding smile came across Alfred's face, "Whatever you say Artie. Fine, partners it is. Who knows maybe you might just be my ticket out of here."

"It's Arthur!"

Alfred laughed and they continued arguing back and forth all the way back to Arthur's home. He'd be lying if he didn't say it was more interesting than his usual days.

And who knows, maybe by helping Alfred move on, not only would he be doing a good deed, but he might be able to turn into a decent novel. He wondered if anyone would believe it was based on a true story…

* * *

Whew this is late. Sorry everyone. Easily distracted.

Thanks for all the reviews. If it wasn't so late I would adress all of them, sorry. But I thank you for reading my story and I'd be grateful if you give me suggestions or just tell me what you think. Especially if you want to see a certain character in it.

Also thanks again to Aileen Allison DeCuir for being my editor.

Hopefully next chapter will come out quicker, I had a major block trying to figure this one out.

Until then!


	4. Ghost

After some mumbling and rather hilarious awkwardness on Arthur's part, the Brit finally was too tired to continue being on edge and retreated to his room. Not without a few threats about how it doesn't matter if Alfred is a ghost or not, peeking comes with risk of pain– Alfred, not doubting the murderous expression on Arthur's face, agreed to stay in the kitchen with a teasing comment about not being the kind of pervert that enjoys seeing old men sleep anyways. It was vastly entertaining to see Arthur flush with anger before he stomped to his room, threw one last glare, and slammed the door shut.

Alfred stood there smiling for a few more minutes until the shuffling stopped, signaling that Arthur had gone to sleep, then he finally let it drop. With the ticking clock creating a steady sound in the now quiet apartment, he yawned and stretched his limbs as far as they could go, wishing to feel the usual stretch of muscles that accompanied the action. However, he was only disappointed that he felt no relief, pain, anything at all. Being a ghost was so lame. Not that Alfred ever thought being a ghost would be cool or that he might become one. Okay, maybe once he did, but that was only because he thought it was really cool that Mattie could sneak around like a ghost and was a bit jealous. Being invisible totally sucks after five minutes though. He'd have to eventually find a way to apologize to Mattie about that one if he could remember.

In the meantime, Alfred walked around the apartment glancing around with an uninterested expression. It wouldn't be fun to snoop until Arthur was there to yell at him for it. For some reason, agitating the blond brought him entertainment he hadn't had much of since he'd died. From what he could see, Arthur was an unusual person. Most of the living space was neat and tidy except for his desk, which was buried under various papers with scribbled down writing and surprisingly small, well-done doodles. On the couch was some abandoned embroidery that Alfred quietly laughed at. "He really is like an old lady," he mumbled looking at the flowery design. Finally, he stopped at the window looking at the dark night sky outside.

He hated nights. Another aspect of being a ghost that majorly sucked: no sleep. Staying up with nothing to do, days blended together. No wonder he lost track of how much time had passed since he died. Speaking of which… he still couldn't figure that one out. Could Arthur really help him? Not that there was much to help. He couldn't remember a thing about- what to call it? The incident? All he could remember is after…

* * *

Alfred walked down the hall feeling worn down, empty, and a lot like he was run over by an eighteen wheeler. His feet dragged across the floor as a numbness was spreading over him. Still there was someone waiting for him, he couldn't let it show how cruddy he was feeling. So, he came into their shabby apartment, slamming the door like usual to announce his presence. For good measure, he also plastered a smile on his face, so he wouldn't worry his younger twin. "Hey Mattie! I'm home! Yo, I'm back from my job, it went..." He trailed off. The past 24 or so hours, job included, was a blur. In fact, how did he even get home? Well regardless, with the way it he was feeling he must have screwed it up and gotten fired. Great, that meant he'd have to work overtime to make up for the loss of day. He bet he was probably going to have to pay back the advancement he got for accepting the job if he really screwed it up. Something they really couldn't afford to do.

Matthew stuck his head out into the general room looking around confused, before frowning, and retreating into the only bedroom.

"Come on Mattie, I know I'm super late and you're probably pissed at me, but it's been a long day. I'm majorly wiped. I'll make it up to you later," Alfred pleaded, following the quieter twin. Yet Matthew didn't even look up from his text book. He must really be mad to give Alfred the silent treatment.

"Mattie~," Alfred whined, standing next the bed near him and pouting, "Don't be like that Mattie. I promise to call next time. I'll even buy you some real maple syrup if you forgive me, no cheap stuff this time I swear. I'll even throw in pancake money! Don't give me the cold shoulder. I'm not _that_ late!"

Matthew shivered wrapping his arms around himself as if trying to warm himself up. "I hope he paid the heating bill this time. It's freezing in here." He mumbled, and Alfred looked at him confused.

"Of course I did. Jeez. I forget one time and you never let it go. It wasn't even that cold considering it was December. Sure, it was snowing outside, but you know the cold really got us in the Christmas spirit that year. Really, do you really doubt the hero? I totally mailed that bill…I think. Besides it's really not that cold in here!" Alfred continued to pout, but wondered why Matthew was acting so strange. Was he really that upset? He'd never been this mad about Alfred being late before. Silent treatment was usually reserved for unpaid bills or stupid acts of heroics that lead to a trip to the hospital. Also, the last comment confused him. Why not just ask him if he paid the bill or not? Plus, Alfred didn't feel cold at all, just numb. An odd sensation fluttered in his stomach, like a nagging feeling, but he brushed it off.

"Mattie?" He tried gently, but got no response. Matthew instead turned to look at the clock, "Matthew, hey Matt look at me! Please just listen! This isn't funny anymore. You can't be that mad at me. Whatever I did, I'm sorry, just pay attention to me. I'll do anything you ask. I'm really sorry, I promise next time to be better. Please! Come on. I just want you to look at me! Matthew!" His voice rose as he spoke, a note of hysteria creeping in. Alfred couldn't understand why his brother wasn't hearing him.

Then he reached out to grab Matthew's shoulder to try and get his attention…

-only for his hand to go straight through.

He jumped back, staring at his hand like it was some strange foreign object he'd never seen before. Alfred looked back and forth between it and his brother who was shivering now like he was dropped in a bucket of ice cubes.

Matthew got up, most likely to grab a spare blanket, and Alfred tried to stop him, to wrap his arms around his twin like usual. Maybe he was just tired; it was just a fluke. He'd hug Matthew and wouldn't let him go until he was forgiven. That usually works. Matthew couldn't possibly stay mad if he was being hugged, even he needed oxygen sometime and everyone knows that breathing beats staying mad. But, Matthew just walked right through him like there was nothing there and Alfred was left standing his arms clasping only air.

"W-what's going on?" He asked panicking, though it seemed like no one could hear him. He tangled his fingers in his hair trying to anchor himself down, but it only made it worse that he couldn't feel anything, "I-I can't touch Matt, he can't even hear me...this has to be a dream...Yeah that's it, a dream." He held onto that idea like a madman. "I'll wake up tomorrow and everything will be alright. This has to be a dream. An awesome creepy dream where I can suddenly go through objects and be invisible. Gotta be a dream." He laughed, hysteria bubbling up, trying to put on a smile for no one but himself, but it didn't last long. The feeling in the pit of his stomach didn't go away and he knew, deep down he knew this was no dream, but he couldn't yet accept otherwise. The alternative- he just didn't want to even imagine it.

Still he stuck around unable to even sleep, he couldn't even get under the covers in bed, and he watched as Matthew finally gave up looking at the clock and go to sleep mumbling about how he was going to kill Alfred if he wasn't home in the morning. Despite the irony Alfred could only frown and lean down murmuring near his twin brother's ear, "I'm right here Mattie. I came home. Just like I promised...you just need to see me."

The next day he continued to follow his twin, worrying when Matt did, trying his best to get him to hear him, and occasionally trying to touch him. A feeling of hopelessness overcame Alfred, Matthew was being suffocated with worry and stress, and he could do nothing but stand by and watch.

On the third day, two police officers came to their door. They looked serious, but wary. Like neither of them wanted to be there. "Matthew Williams?" One ventured, Matthew only nodded, looking as he was trying to build himself up for whatever news they had, "It's about your brother, Alfred Jones."

Alfred had the distinct feeling of being underwater, it reminded him of a time when he was younger, when their parent were still together and he used to go to the pool with his brother. Both would dive under the surface trying to talk to each other, giggling as the sound would get distorted and unrecognizable.

The same thing was happening now, on dry land. The officer was clearly speaking, his expression solemn, but Alfred couldn't understand the words coming out. "Mattie..." Matthew, who had looked so composed and hopeful, seemed to cry out in despair, falling to his knees, tears streaming like rivers down his cheeks. "Matt what's he saying?" One of the officers knelt down placing a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder, his face was a reserved kind of gentle, like it was practiced in a mirror many times. Matthew was literally breaking down and the officer's best was clearly not working. "I don't understand…I don't… I don't understand. What's he saying? Why are you so upset? I don't understand, what's he saying? Matthew!" Alfred was screaming, but no one could hear him.

Then officer started to become clear, the garbled speech reaching his ears, "There was no body at the scene, but with that amount of blood we can only assume the worst. I'm sorry, but at this time we have reason believe your brother is no longer alive. We'll continue with the investigation, but at this point there are no leads. I am sorry for your loss."

Alfred felt his world shatter. The feeling in his stomach increased, and he identified it now. Dread, loss, hopelessness: a cocktail of horrible emotions that he never experienced in this large of a quantity before. He was dead. That's why no one could hear him, why he couldn't touch his brother, why Matthew looked so broken on the floor. He wasn't living anymore. Dead.

Hysteria bubbled through him; he heard a weird sound emanating from an unknown source. It took him a moment to realize it was coming from him. He was laughing. In a choking sob, laughter came from his mouth. "Sorry for his loss?" The words tumbled out onto deaf ears, it was pointless to talk but it poured out of him like running water from a faucet, "I'm fucking dead and that's the best phrase you can come up with? Sorry for your loss? A loss! I'm not lost! I'm here! I'm here, but I'm dead, and Mattie is crying and that's the best you can come up with! Dammit!" He remembered being so afraid of the concept of ghosts, hiding under the covers unable to sleep alone because of them, and now here he was, the very thing he feared. He couldn't even cry, and that made him laugh harder, could ghosts even cry? It was a strange concept, a crying ghost. Ghostly tears. Apparently not, for no tears came.

It was all horribly twisted, Matthew was there broken on the floor and he couldn't even comfort him. That was what hurt the most. What was Matthew going to do now? Alfred scrambled to find his sanity, he pulled himself together to try to think of his brother instead. Seeing as he was dead, the company that hired him couldn't possibly take back the money. There was probably insurance for that or something. There was no contract so there was no guarantee that he would succeed. The money should be enough that Matt could live somewhat comfortably until he graduated, along with whatever small bit of life insurance he might have. That's why he took the job, it was guaranteed easy pay that he wouldn't be cheated out of seeing as he was getting paid before the actual job. He still couldn't remember what happened, but he could only hope that he did what he was supposed to and that everything would work out. So Matt wouldn't starve, he might even have enough to get a nicer apartment now that the money is for one instead of two, Alfred couldn't be sure.

The real question was, what was he going to do? Alfred thought of this. He could watch over Mattie, make sure he was alright. But, even thinking that, looking down at his brother hurt too much. The guilt that he did exactly what their parents did, what he had promised never to do, he had abandoned Matt. Maybe not in the same way, but it was still just as bad, maybe even worse. Besides, just by being near Matthew, it seemed to stress him out more, like his presence was having a negative effect. Alfred couldn't do that to him. So, with nothing holding him back, he walked away. Maybe it was selfish of him to, running away to avoid pain, but the alternative wasn't much better. He could only hope Mattie was strong enough to be able to pull himself together. The quieter twin had always been the more responsible, sensible one. If he knew Mattie, his twin would figure a way to cope. Alfred, on the other hand, needed to cut off all ties and do that thing in the movies. Walk towards the light.

Now if he could only figure out how to move on...

* * *

Alfred turned away from window, and flopped down on the couch. He didn't like that memory, but the hope that Arthur was telling the truth comforted him somewhat. Mattie was moving on, so far it sounded like he was doing well. The problem is if Matthew moved on, then he shouldn't have anything to worry about right? So why was he stuck in totally lame ghost limbo?

Maybe it had to do with his death. If, with Arthur's help, they found out how he died he could be unstuck somehow. It's not like he wanted to disappear, but after being stuck for a couple of years as a ghost, those pearly gates weren't looking too bad.

For now, he spread out on the couch, closed his eyes, and listened to the soft snoring of Arthur sleeping, waiting for morning to come.

* * *

**No excuse for this being so long. Sorry everyone! Thanks for the continued support and the reviews. I love all the reviews I get. **

**I hope you enjoy and sorry if I forget something. Too busy being distracted. **

**Thanks!**


	5. Start

Arthur was a morning person. He was also a routine person. Every morning, he'd wake up with the sun, slip into his clothing for the day, run his fingers through his usual scruffy hair that he knew would be useless to comb, and then go to the kitchen to make some tea. He was never truly awake until he had his tea.

So, it was a shock to his sluggish mind when he saw someone in the apartment. It took him a moment to realize that the blond man was the American he had just promised to help the day before. He also realized why it took him a moment to recognize the ghost. The expression on the dead man's face was so raw, so real, that it made all his past smiles seem like a painted-on mask. Pain was clearly written on his expression, like a man who had lost everything. In a way, Alfred had. Still there was something about it; a depth at which he didn't think would be possible on Alfred's face. It didn't fit, and at the same time it was genuine. The scene made Arthur's heart ache. Unfortunately, before he could study further the ghost finally took notice of the living counterpart and started to babble, the smiling mask returning.

"Yo! Artie! You're finally up! I nearly died again of boredom waiting for you! So I was thinking-" Arthur took the moment to tune him out and burn the image of the boy moments ago as well as any feelings. He set about making tea, pretending the constant stream of babble was the radio, and only started listening when he was finally more awake.

"-and then there was that time I slept through an earthquake, well at least that's what Mattie told me. I wouldn't know for sure, because c'mon, I was totally out of it. You'd have to be crazy to be up at six in the morning, totally. Not to mention I was up most of the night playing a totally rad video game one of my friends from Japan gave me, which I should say I got the high score! Anyways, as I was saying, how can you be up this early? Really, you're such an old man. Is that tea? Gross, you always drink tea! Why not coffee? I used to drink coffee all the time, which reminds me-"

Finally Arthur had enough, "Will you shut your bloody trap, you obnoxious git." He snapped glaring at the young ghost. Stupid American didn't even look guilty, if anything his grin got wider.

"Someone's a little cranky this morning. Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?" Alfred laughed in his booming voice, and Arthur had little doubt that, if he was alive, Alfred could probably wake the neighbors with his loud laughing alone.

"No, I just not so used to having an American talking my ear off so early in the morning. Now let me finish my tea in peace," Arthur sighed taking another sip of tea.

"Onhonhonhonhon~"

Arthur immediately did a spit take, and ignored Alfred's exclamations of 'how it looked just like how they do it on tv' as he turned around. He was disappointed to see, that no, it was not been his sleepy mind imagining things, a French man, who had somehow gotten into his home, was now sauntering in that annoying way of his, towards him.

"Francis what are you doing here? More importantly, how many times to I have to tell you to not just invite yourself in like you own the place!" Arthur spat.

"Who is this. Artie?" Great, Arthur now had two annoyances to deal with.

"But I have a key, and what good is a key if you cannot use it?" Francis shrugged.

"That key is meant for emergencies you damn frog!"

"So he's a frog?" Alfred chimed in.

"Yes! I mean no, this is Francis. He's my perverted neighbor who has boundary issues."

"Oh, really? You gave him a key to your place?" Alfred was standing right next to a confused looking Francis observing him.

"It was for emergencies!" Arthur growled out, wondering why Francis wasn't commenting on how close Alfred was. Or rather why the pervert wasn't trying to check out and or grope the other man.

"Who are you talking to, Sourcils? Your imaginary friends again?" Francis tilted his head slightly, looking at Arthur as if wondering if he should check the Brit into a mental ward.

"What do you mean, who am I talking to? He's right there in front of you!" Arthur pointed to Alfred.

Just then, he noticed Alfred's guilty expression. The American was shifting from foot to foot, looking like a kid who was caught lying.

"Alfred..." The ghost visibly cringed, "He can see you, right?"

"There is nothing there Arthur? Are you feeling okay?" Francis was seriously concerned, enough to actually stop using his ridiculous pet names.

"Well, you see..." Alfred smiled apologetically under Arthur's glare, "You might be one of the few, well the only at the moment, I think. Did I forget to mention that? Heheh, oops?"

So, Arthur had looked like a complete idiot talking to no one. Though it also brought up the question, why him?

"Mon chou, perhaps you need some rest. Shall I suggest we adjourn this meeting to the bed? Namely your bed?" Francis purred, closer than he should be. Way too close!

"What the-! Get away from me, frog!" Arthur backed up, but Francis was coming closer.

"All in good fun, non?" He laughed with that annoying honhonhon of his, and Arthur was quickly beginning to contemplate his death. Francis liked to constantly tease him like this, despite the fact that Arthur has repeatedly lectured -well more like ranted while throwing various potentially deadly objects- at the frog to stop. This time however, before Arthur could respond, Francis was flying backwards and Alfred was suddenly there, standing, one arm outstretched with a serious expression set on his face, in front of him.

"Oh wow, guess I used a little too much strength in that one," Alfred blinked, then chuckled lightly rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. Francis meanwhile was picking himself up after hitting the wall rather forcefully.

"Mon Dieu, rosbif I didn't know you had that strength! You didn't have to hit me that hard! I didn't even see it coming! Have you been secretly training?" The Frenchman whined while trying to dust himself off, "I'll probably be bruised or have a broken rib, not to mention my hair..." He continued on listing all the stupid reasons of why being hit was such a tragedy.

"You just wasted your once a day touch ability, I hope you know that," Arthur ignored Francis in favor of lecturing the other one.

Alfred merely shrugged, flashing a bright grin, "He was too close and you looked distressed. Gotta be heroic and save you from any situation, right?"

Arthur knew arguing that would be pointless. Instead, he finished the now cold tea, put the cup in the sink, and walked up to a still complaining Francis.

"I suggest you leave soon, frog, I don't have time for you now," He said curtly.

"Hmph that's all I get for visiting? You are a poor host, Sourcils. But, fair enough, I was simply doing my usual check up to make sure you aren't poisoned from your own cooking. Au revoir, mon chou," Francis blew an air kiss, and sauntered away laughing.

"You know what...I kinda like him," Alfred laughed, "He's a pretty funny guy."

Arthur just groaned, wondering what he did to deserve this.

* * *

They were walking down the road moments later, Arthur cooling down from the intrusion of his home and Alfred was strolling along side him, looking far too amused by the whole thing.

"Wipe that grin off your face, git; we're supposed to be searching for clues." Arthur snapped, still walking. He wasn't sure where to start, but perhaps exploring areas that Alfred knew or had been recently would trigger something. It was blind hope, but it was all Arthur had so far.

"Wait," Alfred exclaimed, suddenly stopping. After a couple of steps, Arthur did the same, turning to look back at him, almost hopeful. Maybe he thought of something. "Are we looking for Blue's Clues type clues or are we going all Scooby Doo? Personally, I like Scooby Doo, but we'd probably need to get a few more people. And a dog! We gotta have a talking dog! And-"

Arthur could not believe this. He walked away, leaving behind the headache known as Alfred Jones, behind. It took the ghost a minute to realize that Arthur wasn't listening, and then he ran to catch up.

"Yo Artie-!"

"For the last time, it's Arthur you...you...Alfred?" Arthur had turned around yet again to yell at Alfred only to find the ghost nowhere in sight. "Alfred? This isn't funny. Come out now. Alfred?" Alfred had pretty much stuck close to him ever since Arthur agreed to help, he couldn't think of any reason for the ghost to disappear, "Oh, ha ha, you got me, now show yourself. Alfred?"Arthur looked around confused thinking this must be a joke or a poor prank, "Alf-"

"Alfred..." A thick Russian accent finished the statement from behind Arthur, as the fall air became suddenly considerably colder. Arthur turned slowly around to see a tall platinum blond man wearing what should be a too thick coat and scarf even for the season. To say the other man was an intimidating sight would be putting it lightly, the man practically oozed a dark aura.

"Uh, excuse me. I was...uh..." Fantastic, now Arthur looked like a crazy person yelling at the air, "Looking for my dog. Alfred."

"Ah you lost your little doggie?" Arthur gulped and nodded, the man's smile was not putting him at ease at all, "Here. I will help. We can search together," with that, the man put a firm hand on his shoulder and Arthur was too stunned to do anything but go along with it, "My name is Ivan Braginski, and you?"

"A-Arthur," he cursed himself for stuttering. He had more pride then that! He would not be intimidated by this strange foreign man, "My name is Arthur Kirkland."

"Ah I see, Arthur~," Ivan giggled softly, the grown man had actually giggled, "And you're looking for an Alfred. Cute name for a doggie. Makes me think of someone I knew. He was like a dog too. Simple, not too bright, annoying. Very much like a dog."

"I see..." Arthur wasn't sure where Ivan was going with this.

"What was his name again? Something simple like him," he looked like he had to think about it, "Ah yes. It was Alfred too. Alfred Jones."

Arthur stopped walking, and so did Ivan. They stood staring, each judging the other for a moment.

"I'm assuming you know him, da? And if I am guessing correctly you have seen him recently." His eyes were like ice.

"How did you-"

"I am guessing correct, you do have a little ghostie hanging around you. Though, Alfred is very close to a dog so we both are telling the truth. My senses might not be what they used to be, but I can feel that ghostie's presence all over you."

Arthur did not like the feeling he was getting from this person, but he refused to be intimidated. He squared his shoulders trying to look stronger, "What do you know about Alfred?"

"Hm? You are amusing when you act all demanding," the mystery man smiled, but it wasn't warm and happy like Alfred's, it was faker and made Arthur filled with dread, "All in good time, funny little man. But for you, comrade Arthur, I suppose I'll give some advice. Stay away from ghostie, he's bad news. Trust me; Alfred was a dangerous friend to have even while alive. It seems even when no longer alive, he can't keep out trouble and be a good little dead person. Keep hanging around with Alfred and..." Ivan gave him a serious look, one that sent chills throughout Arthur, "You can very well join him. Cut your losses now, comrade."

"How would you know?" Arthur was becoming less and less sure of this. The warning was chilling to say the least, "You knew Alfred when he was alive?"

"I just do and whether I knew him when he was alive is of little consequence. It's his death that matters. So you'll take my advice and forget about this whole ghost business, da?" The smile was back, just as cold.

Arthur paused, what if he was making a mistake? The chill he was feeling could not just be coming from the weather. Could this man be right? But then again, who was this complete stranger giving him advice? He wasn't going to abandon a project when he's barely begun. He had more pride than that. "No."

"What?" The Russian actually looked surprised, "You must not have heard me correctly- it is dangerous."

"I heard you just fine, and the answer is still the same. On my pride as an Englishman, I will see this through."

For a moment Arthur held still on edge, fearful that Ivan might try something seeing as he defied him. However, he was surprised to hear laughter. "You are funny Kirkland. Even if you are going to probably die, it will be interesting to see how far you make it. I'll even help by giving you a hint because I'm that nice."

Arthur didn't know how he attracted all the crazy people that seem to be in his life, but he was grateful for a clue to help with all this nonsense.

"You might find something interesting in warehouse 14 if you look hard enough. Alfred played there last. You know where it is, if not too bad. Just remembered I warned you, comrade. I look forward to reading that nice little obituary in my morning newspaper. Kol kol. Until then..." Ivan laughed again walking past Arthur, a winter-like breeze following behind him.

"Odd."

Arthur whirled around to see Alfred standing there, a picture of nonchalance, hands in his pockets. What was with everyone sneaking up behind him? "And where were you?"

"What do ya mean Artie?"

"What do 'you' mean?" He corrected the git. Honestly, Alfred was so American it hurt.

"Hey I asked first." The idiot actually pouted.

"I was- You just- Oh nevermind. Just tell me where were you when I was talking to that guy." Arthur grumbled.

"Eh, nowhere special. Just got a bit distracted," Alfred shrugged, looking like he was avoiding something, "Anyways what's up?"

"We're going to the storage district to a certain warehouse." Arthur stated already walking; he would care less if the idiot disappeared again. Lot of bloody good he is.

"Do you think we'll find something?" Alfred sounded on edge, but Arthur ignored it, too lost in his own thoughts.

"I certainly hope so." This mystery was getting much deeper than Arthur anticipated; he could only hope that he wasn't getting in over his head.

* * *

**Okay, I can admit it. I'm a horrible person. Sorry for the wait, here's the next chapter and I hope you enjoy it. I have big plans for this fic, so there is no fear of abandoning it, just an annoyance of a horrible author that gets seriously distracted. **

**Thanks for all the reviews, I love when I get feedback so much! Keep telling me what you think, and I'll gladly listen to any suggestions or if you ask for certain characters I'll try to work them in. **

**A big thanks to my editor too, because she goes through with her grammar powers for nothing more than to see the chapter early~. **

**Also, because I have gotten a couple of reviews about this. If you're looking for ghost/human sexy times, I would try another place. Sorry to disappoint, but this isn't that type of fic.**

**Thanks again, please review, I'll try to get the next chapter out soon, and I own nothing. **


	6. Warehouse

"Well, this is a bloody waste of time."

"C'mon Artie, you need to have a little faith. We just got here," Alfred kicked an empty can, which was useless seeing as his foot went right through. Again, being a ghost sucked, he couldn't actually physically move objects, so his typical heroic searching skills were...well, lacking. Oh, well. Alfred put on a grin, he'd just give emotional support, "Unless you're afraid, Artie?"

"I most certainly am not afraid. Even if I were, it would be over catching some sort of disease or stepping on a rusty nail. You'd think they would better maintain this place..." Alfred rolled his eyes, watching Arthur shift boxes, and searching everywhere, but so far they hadn't found a single thing, "Besides, you could at least try to do something."

Alfred sighed, "Fine, I guess you need the awesome hero to save you again. I'll see what I can do." He could just try to remember something. He didn't think he knew this place, but it did feel oddly familiar.

All the warehouses in the area were the same box-like structures, and warehouse 14 didn't look any different; Made of cement with a floor that looked like it hadn't been swept in a good long time. Dust, boxes, and cobwebs occupied a good portion of the space, and combined with the high ceiling gave an eerie feel, like someone was watching in the shadows. He didn't even want to think of what creatures were making the skittering sounds he was hearing. You'd think a warehouse would be more secure, but all that was in their way was a rusted long since broken lock on the doors. They were lucky, and it was all, if Arthur had anything to say about it, too easy. The sandy blond had walked in, muttering how no conflict made a dull tale. Alfred was beginning to suspect Arthur looked at most things as if it was novel and wouldn't be surprised if he was already planning to make this into a book. So long as he was the protagonist or the hero, he might not mind that.

Back to the warehouse itself- if Alfred thought about it, the person who told him about the job did say a warehouse. He just didn't remember too well after a couple years of not thinking about it. With a sigh, he closed his eyes maybe he could sense something. That's what happens in the movies right? The hero closes his eyes and can feel where the clue might be.

At first, there was nothing, just the usual standing in the middle of the warehouse with his eyes closed, and he felt a little silly. The block was still there, the space where his memories just didn't come together, like a scar on his mind, but... He felt something, it hit him like a weak pulse. Growing stronger the more he concentrated on it, until...

"T-there!" His hand pointed to the space without him telling it to. Why was his voice shaking? "S-something..." Then it hit him like a brick to the gut, it was fear. He was scared without knowing why, but he couldn't let Arthur know that. He had to be strong. So he put on a smile with a shaky laugh, "Or at least that's what I'm guessing.

Arthur didn't look convinced, but he went over to the designated place anyways.

"See anything?" Alfred ventured, watching from a distance as Arthur looked behind the boxes.

"What even in these boxes? They weigh..." He trailed off with a puzzled expression and knelt to the ground.

"What?" Arthur simply looked at him, straight in the eyes, before looking down again.

Alfred knew in his gut that he shouldn't see what Arthur was seeing, but he did anyways. Something drew him to the area, despite the growing panic he was feeling. His feet just carried him to where Arthur was kneeling. Glancing over Arthur's shoulder he saw it. Dark stains spread on the floor in patches, most likely blood that had soaked in the cement too much to ever clean off, and near those ominous stains was glasses. More specifically his glasses, exactly like the ones on his face, only mangled slightly and cracked. His blood stains, his glasses. Seeing them Alfred felt like something exploded in his brain. He clutched his head, as his entire existence became agony. _Pain, blood, oh god, so much blood. How can he have this much blood? Blood, but mainly pain. It hurt worse than anything he could think of, agony spreading through him. Consuming him like a wildfire. There was no part of him that wasn't in pain. He wanted to scream. He wanted to die, just end it all, so long as the pain would stop. Why couldn't he just die? Make it stop. He can't take it anymore. Make it stop. Make it stop. Makeitstop._ "Make it stop!"

* * *

A disturbance, like ripples on a lily pond. Chiming sound of a bell cutting through the silent air. Eyes open, glowing in the dark room.

* * *

"Alfred!" Arthur, who had just grabbed the glasses turned to see Alfred clutching his head screaming. He slipped the mangled frames into his pocket without thinking, rushing over to Alfred. It was clear he was in pain. No that was too light a word. It was far past pain.

Alfred took a step back, then another, before succumbing to his knees. His form seemed to flicker, like bad signal on a television screen. Arthur was at a loss of what to do. Alfred was in pain and all he could do was watch. It dawned on him it might be a memory, most likely of the death that caused those bloodstains. It was small wonder why Alfred was so distressed.

"Alfred, it's going to be okay." Arthur tried to put a hand on him for comfort, but it just went right through. Instead he knelt in front of him, trying to talk him out of it, "It's just a memory. Snap out of it. It's not happening, you just need to look at me. Alfred, look at me!" It took a couple of tries, but finally Alfred quieted his shouts and frantic blue eyes locked upon Arthur's green ones.

"A-arthur..." Alfred panted heavily, a small whimper escaped his lips, "I...it hurts..."

Arthur swallowed the lump forming in his throat, "Take all the time you need." Useless words, but they were all he had.

Alfred just nodded, and eventually his breathing calmed down. There was a silence then, as they both mulled over what had just happened.

"That..." He said quietly, before swallowing and showing off a weak smile, "was not what I was expecting."

Arthur chuckled, a weak, shaky thing that escaped his lips without a second thought, "You are a right git, you know that? Known you for barely two days. Can't keep out of trouble, or give me a heart attack, or just...don't do that again."

"Can't make any promises," He laughed back and then looked at him seriously, "I can't really remember what happened, but I died here. There was this job I was supposed to do."

Arthur nodded, remembering Alfred's brother mention a job, "Matthew said something about guarding an object."

Alfred's brow furrowed as he thought about it, "I think so...Gah I wish I could remember. Either way, my death wasn't an accident," Alfred stated looking serious. Arthur nodded in agreement, and because it's Alfred and he can't stay serious for longer than five minutes- the American broke out into a goofy grin, "Looks like you're stuck with me longer than you thought, old man!"

Arthur looked away scowling, though the corners of his lips kept threatening to mutiny into a smile, "Whatever, git. This better be worth it. Let's just get out of here. I need a stiff drink."

With that, the two walked out of the warehouse-

-unaware of the eyes watched them leave, before melting into the shadows.

* * *

The day passed, night fell, the swelling moon rising into the sky and the stars fighting to shine past the few fat clouds.

Far from the ghost and the Brit, in a dim, smoke-filled room, a man lounged on a bright red loveseat. A pipe held loosely in his long pale fingers, he blew sweet smoke lazily from his lips. Tendrils taking shape, figures dancing in the candlelight. A bird in flight, another one soon joining it.

"The game has started again," He stated, to what seemed like an empty room.

A crouching man appeared from seemingly nowhere, nodding and saying nothing. His eyes flat and dull as he stared ahead.

"And you are clear on what to do," More of a statement, not a question. There was no question when it came to the smoking man.

Another nod, a flicker of a frown as a smoke tendril changed into a snake, but it was better to keep quiet and stay under a mask.

It did not go unnoticed, like the crouching man would have liked.

"Tsk, you seem so gloomy," Pale fingers lifted his chin up as the lounging man put his face close, examining the other's neutral features, "It's one last job. Be happy! I grow tired of playing games. Either the new play things are strong enough to do what I ask of them, or I shall destroy them and everything in my way," he gripped his chin tighter, a clench jaw flashing disturbing what was his calm expression. The snake snapped, swallowing the two birds and dissipating into the air. The other man kept his mask up, better to not show the fear he felt, "But, they won't. I can feel it. This energy is special, and after they grow, they will be suited for the task I have in mind. If they can manage I'll give you what you desire." The calm smooth expression was back as he leaned in, lips close to his ears. The crouching man's neutral expression fought against the small rising hope, "Your freedom...

Kiku."

* * *

Well isn't this something? A quick update! Things are starting to get a little interesting, the introduction of yet more characters and Japan is more involved that originally believed. Can you guess who the mystery lounging man is? He plays a big part, but it might not be what you think it is.

Thanks for all the story alerts, faves, and reviews. I really like feedback, and will take suggestions into consideration.

As always, my lovely editor gets a super big thank you! She helps me, even if my grammar sometimes makes her cry.

Until next time! And remember, I don't own Hetalia.


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